


Remember

by heeroluva



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Past Relationship(s), Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-29
Updated: 2011-12-29
Packaged: 2017-10-28 10:55:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/307129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeroluva/pseuds/heeroluva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zoe has trouble sleeping without Wash and receives comfort from an unexpected source.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Remember

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teaandhoney](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=teaandhoney).



> Written for [](http://wishlist_fic.livejournal.com/profile)[**wishlist_fic**](http://wishlist_fic.livejournal.com/) for [](http://teaandhoney.livejournal.com/profile)[**teaandhoney**](http://teaandhoney.livejournal.com/) 's prompt asking for Firefly, Zoe, and sleeping alone.. All mistakes are mine. Feel free to let me know if you see any. As always feedback is appreciated.

The ship was never silent. Even during the night cycle, there was the constant hum of the engines and the gurgling of the water used that day being recycled. Even the thumps of boots against the grates of the walkway were normal as most of the crew suffered from insomnia at one point or another. Zoe had never been one of them. She still had nightmares from the war, yes, but she could go to sleep after them. Usually. When Wash had been there. But Wash was dead.

Without the sound of Wash breathing next to her and the inevitable soft snores, it was too quiet. The cool sheets next to her should have felt good, but the lack of warmth just served as a further reminder of what she lost. Their quarters. No. Only _her_ quarters now, was once a sanctuary, but now it was suffocating. The big bed that they’d splurged on, despite Mal’s disapproval and the hard work and maneuvering it had taken too actually get it though the hatch, was a mockery of what was lost and gone.

Grabbing a blanket, Zoe wrapped it around her shoulders and shoved her feet into her boots. She had to get out, get away or else she might break. Entering the mess, she wasn’t surprised to find Jayne sitting at the plastic covered table with numerous guns spread out across it. Despite Jayne’s obvious loyalty, the sight of so many guns made Mal twitchy, so Jayne had stopped doing it so much during the day.

Zoe took a seat across from him, watching Jayne use a stiff brush to clean the bore of the gun’s barrel. Wiping it down, Jayne inspected it for any loose particles and finding none, he finished cleaning it before moving onto the next piece.

Zoe knew better than to touch Jayne’s gun without permission as he was more than a mite bit possessive of them, so she was startled when he suddenly placed a gun before her. “If yer just gonna sit there, make yerself useful.”

That was a typical Jayne comment, lacking tact, but it was missing the bite that such words would normally carry. Taking the gun, Zoe stripped it quickly with the easy of someone long familiar with firearms and began the process of cleaning it. It was simple work, but it kept her hands busy, gave her something to focus on other than the massive hole in her chest that seemed to yawn wider each day. As she worked, she let herself forget, just for a little while, and she suddenly had an appreciation for why Jayne did this so often.

Zoe didn’t realize she’d been crying, not until she felt the drip of tears as they landed on her hand. Raising her hand, to wipe them away, she found her wrist suddenly captured by Jayne’s hand. Tugging at it angrily she growled, “Let me—”

Jayne shoved a clean cloth into her hands, and Zoe suddenly realized what she’d almost done, the damage the solvent she’d been using on the gun to the sensitive membrane of her eyes. “Oh,” she said. That had been dumb. Stupid. Senseless. And then she was crying, sobbing as she hadn’t done since that first night, like she said she wouldn’t do again.

She didn’t notice Jayne’s panicked look or how he rose helplessly unsure of what to do. She didn’t notice as Jayne cleaned her hands carefully. But she did notice that he was close and warm, and she buried her face in his chest, just needing human contact. She didn’t care that this was Jayne, that Jayne was abrasive and crash, and that she’d probably regret this in the morning.

But Jayne had sisters and aunts and cousins and had never liked to see a woman cry, and awkwardly wrapped an arm around her hesitantly patting her back.

After a long minute she pulled back, embarrassed for her lack of control.

“Wash was a good man, a good pilot” Jayne said abruptly.

Startled, Zoe eyes rose to his. “The very best,” she agreed.

“Died doing what he loved. Have gotta respect that.”

Nodding, Zoe wondered where this was going. However, Jayne took his seat again and returned to his cleaning not saying a word. After a moment Zoe did the same.

“Seen a lot of death. Ain’t seen a lot of love. Not like what you and Wash had. ‘Specially not in the black. Ain’t weak to mourn that, and don’t go thinkin’ otherwise. Long as you remember him, he’ll be with you.”

Zoe blinked at the sudden rush of tears and swallowed past the lump in her throat and wondered when Jayne had gotten so wise or if it had always been there and they just hadn’t looked beneath the surface. Squeezing her eyes shut, she conjured Wash’s smiling face to her mind with his silly mustache and those awful shirts. Smiling at the memory, Zoe thought for the first time that maybe, just maybe, she could survive this.


End file.
